


To Dance Amongst the Stars

by willowscribe



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Meld, Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowscribe/pseuds/willowscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim's worst memories are erased, Spock, Uhura, and McCoy know that they have to do everything in their power to get them back. But for Jim, becoming the person he's meant to be means reliving everything he's ever wanted to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Dance Amongst the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this fic has been a long time coming. I started it a few months ago, promptly lost all inspiration, and then found it on my hard drive two nights ago and finished it! I'm still not sure if I like it or not, but I figured if I went through all the effort of completing it, I might as well share. Please drop a review at the end to let me know what you think! 
> 
> (This fic is cross-posted on FF.net)

Nyota Uhura considers herself to be something on an expert in body language. Her talent for communications goes far beyond verbal expression, and usually she can read people like a book. It makes her a formidable poker player. It’s also the reason why she knows that something’s wrong with Jim the second he beams back up to the _Enterprise_ from the planet below.

They’d been attempting to facilitate a treaty between the warring tribes on the planet Erax. The Eraxians were divided into two separate clans, the Formites and the Ishvans. The Formites believed that, by the law of natural selection, they were the superior beings, and that the Ishvans were wasting valuable resources by continuing to exist on their planet. It had led to a bloody war, a war that wasted more resources than anything the two tribes had been doing originally. The Federation had been content to let them have at it for a while until it became clear that there was a high demand for an Eraxian fruit called a gomlet, at which point they sent the _Enterprise_ to intervene. McCoy had grumbled nonstop about the Federation’s priorities for the two days it had taken them to get there.

Though she hadn’t been one of the landing party, from the expression on Jim’s face, the treaty had been successful. Sulu had also gone down, and he gives Chekov a thumbs-up as he enters behind Jim. Chekov, Uhura has noticed, is one of those people who need oral confirmation for everything. “All is good?” he says to Sulu despite their obvious success.

“It all worked out,” Sulu says, and the whole crew, save Spock, gives a little shout of happiness. “We should let the Federation know so we can get out of here. Do we have another assignment waiting, Captain?”

Something is wrong with Jim, but it seems like Uhura is the only one who’s noticed. When he walks, it’s with a bit of a swagger instead of his usual stride. When Jim normally swaggers, it’s when he’s trying to look overconfident, like when he tried to ask her out years ago in Iowa. This swagger is different. There’s no cause for it. It just… is.

His voice is different too. When he speaks, he has a bit of a drawl… and can Uhura detect a vague note of condescension in his tone? “Nothing yet,” he says easily, “but I can shoot a message off now and let them know we’re ready to get out of this dump.”

Something’s not right. Uhura scans to room to see if anyone else has picked up on it. When she makes eye contact with Spock, he inclines his head towards Jim and raises one eyebrow. _Something’s wrong._

Uhura ducks her head. _I know._

Spock gives Jim a once-over, and then pulls himself up slightly taller, into perfect posture. _He’s arrogant. Not like usual Jim-arrogant. He’s_ arrogant _arrogant_.

Uhura bites her lip in thought. Then she taps her ear discreetly. _Call McCoy._

Spock nods and exits the room. No else has even noticed that the conversation took place.

When Spock returns, McCoy is with him. “Okay,” he says loudly as he enters in the room. “You need to come with me. I still haven’t given you the all-clear from that last visit to Erax.” He seizes Jim by the arm and pulls him up out of his seat.

Jim slaps McCoy’s hand away. “Don’t manhandle me,” he says, and his tone is close to scathing. He shows himself out of the room, with McCoy following close behind. Spock glances to Uhura and Uhura nods.

“Mr. Sulu, you have the con,” Spock says, and follows Jim and McCoy out of the room.

Uhura pulls out her PADD and shoots a quick message off the Spock. _Keep me updated._

A moment later, she receives a response. _I plan on it._

[-]

Spock follows McCoy and Jim down to the medbay. Jim is grumbling, shooting sidelong glares at both Spock and McCoy. When they finally arrive, McCoy moves to scan Jim, and Jim almost lashes out, smacking the tricorder out of McCoy’s hand. “Did I give you permission to scan me, McCoy?” he snaps.

McCoy gapes at Jim for a moment before reaching down and picking up his tricorder. “Jim…” he says quietly. “Do you feel alright? Did something happen down there?”

“Nothing happened,” Jim says. Even though it’s clear that he’s trying to control himself, the statement comes out with an aggressive bite. “I negotiated a treaty with the Eraxians. They agreed to the terms.”

“You’re acting differently,” McCoy tells Jim. “You’re not usually like this.”

“Like what, Doctor?”

“Like this!” McCoy gestures to Jim’s body. “You’re aggressive like I’ve never seen you! You haven’t called me ‘Bones’ once!”

“What the hell would I call you Bones? Now if you’ll excuse me, you’re wasting my time. I have a goddamn ship to run. “

With that, Jim stalks out of the medbay. The doors slide closed behind him. Spock turns to McCoy and raises a single eyebrow.

“Goddammit, not you too,” McCoy grumbles. “My patience is wearing very thin right now. I know you can speak Standard, _sir_ , so I suggest you use the language like the rest of us.”

Spock thinks for a moment before saying, “There is something wrong with the captain.”

“Thanks for that brilliant observation.”

“He is unlike himself. He is arrogant and cruel. Under ordinary circumstances, Captain Kirk would never take sole credit for negotiating a treaty. He certainly would not lash out in such an aggressive way.”

“Nearly busted my goddamn tricorder,” McCoy mutters.

“It would be my advice to put him on medical leave until further notice.”

McCoy sighs heavily and grabs his PADD off a nearby table. “I was planning on it. Congratulations, sir. You’re now Acting Captain Spock.” He signs his name on the form with flourish. “Now as Acting Captain, I suggest you try and find out what happened down there on Erax.”

“I intend to,” Spock assures McCoy. “Would you like to be a member of the team that I’m sending down?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

[-]

Uhura is the first person Spock approaches after his discussion with McCoy. “How good is your Eraxian?” he enquires.

“I’m fairly competent at both dialects.”

“Excellent. You’re now a member of the team that’s going to investigate what happened to Captain Kirk.”

“Don’t they speak Standard, though?”

“I’m certain they do,” Spock says. “You didn’t have to go down for the treaty after all. But when they’re not entertaining guests, I’m also certain that they speak their own native language.”

“Fair point,” Uhura concedes. “Are you going too?”

“I am. Mr. Sulu will have the con.”

In the end, the landing party consists of Spock, Uhura, McCoy, and four security officers hand-picked by Giotto. They beam down to Erax with a promise from Scotty that if anything goes wrong, they’ll be back on the Enterprise before what happened to Jim can happen to them too.

Once they arrive, Spock pulls out his comm. “Spock to Enterprise.”

“Enterprise,” Sulu says on the other end of the line. “Look, sir, I had Chekov ask the rest of the landing party that went down for the negotiations what happened. According to the others, once the treaty was signed, the leaders of both sides pulled Jim away to personally thank him for what he had done. They were only out of the room for five minutes, but Chekov and I think that’s when whatever they did to Jim happened. It may have been malicious, but it may have been genuine thanks.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Spock says, processing all the new information quickly. “Thank you, Mr. Sulu.”

“Not a problem, sir. Enterprise out.”

So the Eraxians might have been trying to express their thanks by doing to Jim… whatever they did. Spock doesn’t quite understand why Jim is acting like a different person. According to McCoy, Jim’s physically identical to his usual self. His brain patterns are even the same. So why…?

The group marches in to the conference hall where the peace talks had been held. It’sa large, ornate building framed in glittering gold. It shimmers in the sunlight, though parts of it bear scorch marks, remnants of the hours-old war.

Inside the gilded hall is a long table, lined with unoccupied chairs. In the corner of the room, two Eraxians are huddled together, moving their hands excitedly. They are both the color of peaches, but there are swirling lines in bright purple that decorate their scaly skin from head to toe. As Spock leads his team into the hall, both Eraxians stop dead in their motions and turn to face their visitors. The third eye on one of them blinks.

“I seek audience with Ministers Ishvaya and Formaerus,” Spock announces.

“What business have you here?” one of the Eraxians asks in croaky tones. “The treaty is done.”

“The health of one of our crew members has been compromised. I wish to speak with the ministers.”

“The ministers are busy,” the other one snaps. “They are trying to build a new planet-wide government. Surely you can excuse their absence.”

“Actually, no, we can’t.” McCoy steps forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Spock. “This is damn important, so I suggest you contact your ministers right now or you’ll find yourself facing a Federation inquiry.”

The two Eraxians exchange glances. One makes a couple of strange clicking noises before turning back to face the crew. “Very well. You shall have ten standard minutes.”

“Good,” McCoy snaps. “Where are they?”

“I am Minister Formaerus,” says the Eraxian on the right, “and this is Minister Ishvaya.”

Uhura gives Spock a sharp look. It says, _Be careful._

“What member of your crew has been so grievously injured that you felt the need to beam down here with a full landing party and harass the ministers?” Formaerus asks.

“Our captain, that’s who!” McCoy growls. Spock makes a small gesture at Uhura, and the woman gently pulls McCoy back to stand with the security officers. She moves to take his place at Spock’s right side.

“Your captain?” Formaerus exclaims! “You don’t mean the Terran who negotiated the treaty? The golden boy?”

“Yes,” Uhura says calmly. “Ever since he beamed back up, he’s been acting very out of character. We don’t feel comfortable allowing him to take command not know what’s wrong with his mind. Crew members reported that the two of you took him aside after the treaty was complete.”

Formaerus clicks at Ishvaya. Then, turning back to face Spock, xe says, “That’s a relatively short-term effect of the treatment. In a few weeks, he’ll settle in to himself and you’ll all become used to him.”

“What treatment?” McCoy is pushing his way forward again. “What the _hell_ did you do to Jim?”

“It was a gift,” Ishvaya says calmly. Xir voice is deeper, smoother. “It was given in thanks. It is the greatest gift our people can give.”

Formaerus clicks. Ishvaya gives Formaerus a harsh look and clicks back. Uhura whispers to Spock, “Formaerus doesn’t want Ishvaya to tell us about it. It’s a secret kept within their people.”

“Ministers,” Spock says calmly, “I understand that you do not wish to speak of this secret of your people. Rest assured, we only require the minimum amount of knowledge to understand what has happened to our captain. If you prefer, I can send the security team out, and only essential personnel shall ever hear what you have to say.” At his words, the security team leaves the room.

Ishvaya opens xir mouth, makes a foreign hand gesture at Formaerus, and says, “You are correct. It is a secret know only to a select few of our own people. To those who are gifted with in, The Holy Erax grants the power of healing – not only physical, but mental. We take those who have suffered much and erase their sorrows, so that they never remember their trauma. I knew as soon as the golden boy entered the room that his soul was deeply troubled. We were so grateful to him that we knew we had to repay him in the best way we knew how.”

“You erased his suffering,” Uhura breathes. “You made it like it never happened at all. That’s why he’s been acting so differently!”

“Usually, we do not see such a strong reaction,” Ishvaya admits. “Most people close to the subject do not ever notice the difference. Some recognize that their loved one is happier or brighter, but never enough to investigate the full extent.”

“How many people do you do this to?” McCoy asks. “How many people don’t even know? Does Jim even remember?”

“The golden boy has no memories of his healing,” Ishvaya says softly. “As to your other question… ever since the war began, not much healing has been done at all. However, before the war, when we were active in trade with the Federation, we would reward those that we believed deserved our healing. Merchants, traders… sometimes slavers would land here. We would free and heal the slaves aboard.”

“We are good people doing a good thing,” Formaerus says loudly. “You would do well to be thankful for our service to your captain. The trauma in his mind was so deeply set that it was a battle to draw it out and wash it away.”

McCoy sighs heavily. “This is great and all, but it doesn’t change the fact that Jim is _wrong_. He’s not himself and he’s not going to be nearly as good of a captain because of it. He’s condescending, rude, arrogant, and unsympathetic to anyone. Will that make him a good leader? Will his crew want to follow him to their deaths? With he ever be able to empathize with anyone enough to negotiate another peace treaty? Or will fixing your goddamn planet be the last good thing he ever does?”

Ishvaya winces. “We did not mean for it to be this way. I have never seen a subject react so strongly to the healing before.”

“Can it be reversed?” This time it’s Spock speaking. “Is it at all possible?”

“No,” Formaerus says coarsely.

“If you’re very lucky, then yes,” says Ishvaya.

“Talk to me,” McCoy says to Ishvaya.

“Theoretically… and I can’t know for certain because we’ve never needed to reverse the process… but theoretically, since the trauma in the golden boy’s mind was rooted so deeply, it’s possible that there are seeds of it left over… seeds of emotion, sensory input, psychological associations. If your captain digs deep enough in his mind and pulls those seeds out, they may grow once more. But he must want to grow these seeds of pain and suffering. If he does not, he will never find them, and they will be lost in his subconscious forever.”

[-]

Spock, McCoy, and Uhura are back in the medbay, looking down at an unconscious Jim. The fresh hypo mark on his neck pays testament to the recent struggle. McCoy is holding ice to a fresh bruise on his cheek.

“What do we do now?” Uhura says. She knows they’ve all been thinking it.

“Obviously talking to him isn’t going to be an option,” McCoy gripes.

They all stand silent for a moment. Then Uhura says, “Ishvaya said that there were still seeds of his former memories in his subconscious, right? If Kirk isn’t willing to find them on his own, maybe someone could guide him to them.” She gives Spock a hard look. “And I happen to know someone who can perform these magical little things called mind melds.”

“No,” Spock says. “I will not. To invade another’s mind without permission is one of the greatest crimes a Vulcan can commit. And to perform a meld on a psi-null species like a Terran... The captain would never forgive such an intrusion.”

“The captain isn’t ever going to be _our_ captain again unless we do something!” McCoy shouts. “Look, Spock, do we really have any other options?”

“Perhaps when the captain awakes we can convince him…”

“There will be no convincing! Jim isn’t anything like himself! If we tell this imposter to dredge up all his worst memories, who knows what he’ll do?”

Spock takes a deep breath. “I know that the solution seems simple from your perspective, Doctor. But it’s not a simple thing. The ethics of such an intrusion…”

“Screw the ethics! Jim is more important that your goddamn _ethics_!”

Uhura places a placating hand on Spock’s shoulder. “Spock, look, I know this is hard for you. But I’m sure that there are stipulations under Vulcan law for extenuating circumstances, right? If someone is dying and a mind meld is the only thing that can save them, it would be performed, right?”

“Yes,” Spock admits.

“Well, _Kirk_ is dying, Spock. _Our_ Kirk. If you don’t do this, we’ll never see the Kirk that we love and care for ever again.”

“Come on, man,” McCoy adds. “I know Jim well enough to know that he’d be perfectly fine with a meld if it would save his life.”

“If I do this,” Spock says, “it would require me to see the memories that the Eraxians hid. I don’t know what those memories are, but they must have been significant to result in the captain behaving this way. The captain would be forced to re-live the trauma as if it were the day that it happened.”

“But you’ll be there with him,” Uhura says. “This time, he won’t have to be alone.”

Spock sighs heavily. After a moment of silence, he says, “Very well. Doctor, ensure that Jim is anaesthetized for the entire procedure. It would not do for him to wake up flailing halfway through.”

“You got it,” McCoy says.

“As for you, Nyota… I believe that the when the captain awakes, he will be pleased that he has a friend as true as you.”

“And you,” Uhura says with a slight smile. “Now go save our captain.”

[-]

 

At first, Jim’s mind is dark. It’s vast and empty, echoing with the lonely silence of space. Slowly but surely, the inky blackness begins to fade, and Spock finds himself facing a small pinprick of light growing ever-larger. The light drifts towards him lazily and finally stops only a centimeter from Spock’s nose.

“Hello, Captain,” Spock says.

He blinks. The light is gone, and in its place stands James Tiberius Kirk, shimmering with an unnatural iridescence. He appears to be radiating gold.

“Mr. Spock,” Jim says. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“No, I’m not,” Spock agrees. “However, circumstances necessitate that it be so. May we walk?”

Jim gestures that Spock start walking, so Spock does. As he steps along the infinite nothingness, a path appears beneath his feet. With every footstep that he takes, a gilded pathway appears, and for a moment, Spock doesn’t know if he’s following the path or the path is following him. Jim walks by his side.

“Mr. Spock, there’s something wrong with me.”

“Yes,” Spock agrees. “I’m glad that you recognize it.”

“It’s only in a sort of subconscious way,” Jim admits. “I see myself doing things and I think, _why did I do that?_ I don’t know. It just sort of happens.”

“You are not yourself,” Spock says. “In the outside world. After you negotiated the Eraxian treaty, they personally thanked you. Do you remember that?”

Jim thinks for a moment. As he does, whirlwinds of memories begin to fly by them. They look like old film reels, a rare antique on Earth. Each reel flashes by the blink of an eye. Spock catches glimpses of a smiling little boy holding a fat toad in his hands, a young woman blinking shyly before leaning in for a kiss, a graduation day the Academy, dressed all in cadet red.

“I don’t recall,” Jim says. “Why, did something happen?”

“Yes,” Spock says. “But it’s difficult to explain.”

“If anyone can explain something, it’s you,” Jim says. “And if anyone can understand what you explain, it’s me.”

Spock takes a moment to think about how he wants to phrase this. “The Eraxians have the power to alter minds,” he says slowly. “They can erase bad memories or heal wounded souls. The Eraxian ministers decided to thank you for your good works by healing your soul.”

A tattered film reel whips by. In it, Jim is standing by Ishvaya and Formaerus. The two have their hands placed on Jim’s temple. The purple swirls that adorned their scales are glowing.

“What needed healing?” Jim says quietly. “Because I can’t think of anything.”

“That’s because it’s gone,” Spock says. “Not entirely, but gone from your waking memory and nearly eradicated from your subconscious. The ministers believe that if you find the buried root of your memories, you may return to your normal self.”

Jim stops walking. The golden path fades, turns to ash, and crumbles beneath their feet. Jim and Spock remain where they are, appearing to be floating in the middle of the black.

“The man that you find yourself acting like – that’s you, captain, unless you regain those memories. You are a better person with them than without.”

One single frame of film floats its way through the air. Jim reaches out and grabs it. The picture is of an exploding spaceship – the USS Kelvin. The picture is badly damaged and looks as though it has been through a fire. Jim holds it in his hand for a moment before crumpling it and throwing it into the oblivion. “What if I don’t want the memories back?” he says. “What if I’d rather be a worse person and not have those memories?”

“You don’t truly want that,” Spock says calmly. “I know you well, Captain. You don’t want to be that man, the man that you saw. The man that punched Doctor McCoy and hurled verbal abuses at his crew is not you.  He’s someone who was never meant to exist in the first place. Would you rather spend the rest of your life as that man, Jim? Because I don’t believe that you would ever be that selfish.”

Jim huffs loudly. “Damn you, you’re right.” He sighs. “What do we have to do?”

“Do you know where your subconscious is?” Spock says, looking around.

“No,” Jim replies. “That why it’s my _subconscious_. I don’t know my way around here like I’m sure you Vulcans do. It’s only my second meld, you know.”

Spock blinks. “Second? What was the first?”

“You. Well, other you. Future you. He has a lot to explain and not much time to do it. That was when you threw me off the Enterprise on our first mission together.”

“I was not aware of that fact,” Spock says. “I will have to mention it to him when we reunite.”

“He never told you? I’d think that’d be an important part of the story.”

“You neglected to mention it as well.”

“He told me that time and space would be fractured. I had my reasons. Now, where’s my subconscious?”

“You must find it on your own,” Spock says. “Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Have you ever mediated?”

“No.”

“I suppose there’s a first time for everything. Now, picture something calming to you. Perhaps an element. Imagine waves crashing on the beach, or the crackle of a fire, or wind blowing through tall grass.”

“Fire,” Jim says. “I’m picturing fire.”

The minutes of silence stretch on. Finally, Jim opens his eyes. “Look, Spock, this isn’t going to…” He stops. All around the two of them swirl splendid colors, looking like auroras dancing in the sky. Beneath them is a star going supernova. “Is this it?” Jim says in a whisper.

“Jim… your mind is beautiful,” Spock breathes. “I have never seen anything like it.”

“This… this is my subconscious?”

“Yes,” Spock murmurs softly. “Where we were before… it is where your mind lives. But here? This is where your heart lives.”

Jim leans backwards and falls, spread-eagled. Where he stood before, he now soars downwards, drifting endlessly through dancing color and light. When he lands, he is laying on a grassy green field, Spock by his side. All around them, the colors swirl. The blades of grass are soft and pleasantly warm. Jim buries his fingers in it.

“Do you think it’d be alright if we stayed here forever?” he says quietly.

“No. The subconscious can have addictive properties. I find myself feeling the effect already. If we stay too long, we may never leave.”

“Would that really be so bad?” Jim rolls over on his side to look at Spock. “I don’t think I’d mind.”

Spock rolls over to face Jim as well. “In the real world, you would be a vegetable. You would never command a vessel; you would never laugh with your friends. Eternity is a long time to spend trapped in your own mind.”

Jim reluctantly begins to sit up. “It’d be nice here. Nicer than out there.”

“But we need you out there, Captain. We need you as yourself again.”

“I know,” Jim sighs. “So, what do we do?”

“Look around. There are plenty of flowers in this field, correct?”

Jim turns around. Where before the field was only grass, it is now filled with various blossoming flowers.

“I suspect that these flowers represent your formative experiences,” Spock continues. “What we must do is find the odd ones out… the ones that look like they haven’t bloomed or have, but have died.”

“That could take a while.”

“It’s your mind, Captain,” Spock reminds him. “You’re in control.”

[-]

They find a patch of grass tucked away in the corner of the field. It’s buried under a large rock, but when the stone is rolled away, it reveals the ashes of what must have been other flowers. “We are here,” Spock says, clearly intrigued.

Jim crouches down and grasps some of the ashes. He lets them run through his fingers, slowly falling back to the ground. “Whatever these memories were, they’re gone now,” he says. “Flowers can burn to ashes, but ashes can’t grow into flowers.”

“Perhaps,” Spock agrees. “But maybe these memories don’t need to be flowers in order to regrow.”

Jim sits down in front of the circle of ash. Gently, he traces his hand over it, drawing loopy designs with his index finger. “I want to remember,” he says. “I know that whatever used to be here was bad, but… I want to remember.” He gives Spock an almost desperate look. “But I’m scared of what I’d be remembering.”

Spock sits down next to Jim. “It may be difficult,” he agrees, “but it’s a weight you’ve borne before, Captain. You are meant to remember. It’s not natural for one to forget their most formative experiences.”

“It may not be natural, but it’s easy,” Jim says quietly. “It’s too easy. I want to remember everything, but I’m scared that when I do… when I do, I’ll regret it.”

“I remember the genocide of my people in vivid detail,” Spock says suddenly. “I distinctly recall standing on the bridge and experiencing such… _strong_ emotions. I’d never felt anything so overwhelming in my entire life, not even as a child, before I had mastered my mind. I felt fear, panic, anguish… and even though that day was the worst day of my life, I would not forget it for the world. It reminds me what I fight for. I hope that one day, the entire universe will be at peace, and I’d like a play a part in that, no matter how small.”

Spock smiles, just barely. “Originally, I was going to join the Vulcan Science Academy. I had been accepted, and it was the highest of honors. But on the day I was to claim membership, the Council mentioned that they were proud of my achievements despite my _disadvantage_. They were referring to my human mother.

“I turned down their offer of membership. The next day, I joined Starfleet. I’d meant to spite them, to prove that I could be successful without catering to their prejudices. But I never had a _purpose_ until Vulcan was destroyed and my mother was killed.”

Spock takes a deep breath. “Captain… _Jim_. Your purpose defines you. And these memories define your purpose.”

“Thank you.” Jim’s words are quiet. “Spock, I…” He trails off. “I think I know what to do.”

Slowly, Jim reaches out and grabs a handful of ash. He closes his fingers around it and holds it in his palm, his grip getting tighter and tighter. After a moment, Jim gasps and his eyes widen. “Spock,” he manages to croak out in a hoarse whisper. “Spock… could you… maybe… hold my hand?”

Without a second thought, Spock does. As soon as his fingers close around Jim’s free hand, he is transported away, away from the field and from the colors, away from everywhere he’s been in Jim’s mind so far. When Spock finally comes back to himself, he finds himself standing in a cornfield, hand-in-hand with Jim, watching a farmhouse burn. “Fire…” Jim breathes. “Always fire.”

The flames snap loudly and a beam in the house groans and caves in. Jim shudders. “I remember this, now. It was my home, when I was a child. I burned it down when I was fourteen.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

They watch the wooden frame of the house collapse in silence. When the flames have been reduced to smoldering embers, Spock blinks and finds himself back in the field of Jim’s mind. Next to him, Jim shakes himself and opens his palm. Where before there had only been ashes, there is now a small diamond. “Carbon,” Jim says. “Of course.”

He places the diamond carefully on the ground and grabs another handful of ashes. This time, Spock takes his hand before Jim has to ask. It’s oddly intimate, for Spock especially, but Jim doesn’t know what holding Spock’s hand really means. In a heartbeat, the two are whirled away into another memory.

Everything is dark. There are vague shouts of anger, but there is nothing to see. Jim and Spock stand together, watching, listening.

“Damn you, boy!” There’s the sound of skin hitting skin.

“I know that voice,” Jim whispers. “But I can’t place it.”

“Your goddamn mother didn’t do nothing but run off to space and leave me to deal with your lazy ass!” the voice continues. “If I’da known she’d be nothing but a golddigging whore, I’da never married her in the first place! Lord knows I di’nt marry her for her looks or her goddamn kid, you ungrateful sunuvabitch!”

Jim’s face is pale. “That’s… that’s Frank,” he manages to whisper. “My stepfather. But I… I don’t remember him ever… I mean, maybe he drank too much, but he never…”

There’s the sound of another smack and a child’s whimper. Spock holds Jim’s hand tighter. “Jim…” he says, but Jim’s eyes are glazed and slowly, the darkness around them is beginning to fade. A room melts into view, a room with wooden floors and a dark green wall and a table with four chairs and in the center, a man towering over a little boy with golden hair. Jim’s eyes close and Spock sees a single tear run down his cheek.

“Frank abused me,” Jim says, and his voice is monotonous. “That’s the memory I’ve hidden.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out shakily. “Ever since my mom left, he would…”

They’re back in the field. Jim shudders and places the new diamond in his palm next to the previous one. The pile of ashes that remains looks even more intimidating.

“Jim,” Spock says as Jim picks up another handful of ash, “maybe you should wait. Give yourself a moment.”

It’s too late. They appear in darkness, but it fades much more quickly this time. Jim and Spock stand by the side of a flat dirt road and watch as a boy no older than eleven speeds along it in a classic car, laughing and cheering the whole way. They watch as the boy is pursued by the police and nearly dies dangling from a cliff. They watch as the boy is handcuffed and taken away, and they watch as the boy refuses to make a phone call to his parents to bail him out. They watch the boy spend the night in jail, cold, frightened, and alone. They watch the boy sneak back into the farmhouse the next day through a second-story window, and they watch as the boy doesn’t leave the house again for the next week.

Jim is shaking when he puts the newly-formed diamond down.

Spock reaches out to stop Jim before he can grab the last handful, but he’s too late. A moment later, the two men are standing hand-in-hand in pitch darkness.

At first, there’s nothing. No sound, no light, no sensory input at all. Then, the acrid scent of burning makes its way through the air. In the darkness, Spock feels Jim’s grip on his hand tighten.

There’s sound next, the sound of marching footfalls perfectly in line. Jim takes a step closer to Spock and leans against his shoulder. “I don’t want to be here,” Jim whispers. “I don’t know why, but… whatever this is, I don’t want to remember it.”

“You _must_ ,” Spock says, squeezing Jim’s hand. “Jim, you must.”

The darkness fades. Jim looks down and gags. Spock almost does the same.

They’re standing in an open grave. Thousands of corpses are piled around them, ten, even twenty-high. The overwhelming stench of rotting flesh hits them like a wrecking ball. Jim staggers and almost collapses. “Nonononononono,” he murmurs softly. Spock can hear the note of panic in his voice. “No no no. This… no… I can’t…” He looks up desperately. “Spock…”

From over the pile of bodies, Spock can see a group of men in uniform looking down into the pit. In the center is the face of a criminal Spock easily recognizes. “Kodos?” he breathes aloud.

“Yes. I…” Jim chokes and gasps down a sob. “Spock, I can’t do this. I can’t, I can’t, I…”

The soldiers next to Kodos hold fire starters, which they throw down into the piles of bodies. The scent of burning flesh wafts through the air.

Jim’s knees buckle and he collapses to the ground. A moment later, and they’re back in the field. Jim is sobbing, loudly and openly. Spock puts an arm around Jim’s shoulder and guides him over to lean against his chest. Jim falls into Spock’s embrace, slipping past Spock’s chest to collapse on his lap. Spock doesn’t know what to do, so he just holds on to Jim as the man cries his way through the pain that his mind should have had years to register.

After what feels like hours, Jim sits up and tries to compose himself. The last diamond finally falls from his hand. “What did I do to deserve this?” Jim asks Spock, although Spock gets the impression that he’s talking more to himself. “I can’t be _that_ bad of a person, can I?”

“Jim,” Spock says, reaching over and lacing his fingers through Jim’s. “You did nothing to deserve the suffering you have been through. No one deserves to suffer like you have.” He tries to impress the truth of his words to Jim through their handheld connection. “And I grieve with thee.”

Jim laughs shakily. “I wish I didn’t remember. The other stuff, fine, I could deal with. But not… not Tarsus. I’d give anything to forget Tarsus.” He sighs and leans against Spock’s side. “I guess that’s not an option, huh?”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad that you remember. Not because of the suffering it’s causing you, but because of the man that it makes you become.”

Jim looks at the shards of diamond laying on the dry soil. “I still wish… but you’re right. If you became a better man through the annihilation of Vulcan, then I can become a better man through the annihilation of Tarsus IV. I am meant to remember.” He sighs. “Thank you, Spock. Thank you for rescuing me from my own mind. Thank you for salvaging the pieces that make me… well… _me_.”

“Would you rather have these memories than not, Captain?”

Jim is silent for a moment. Then he says, “Yes, Mr. Spock, I think I would.” Even as he speaks, he angrily wipes away the tear the runs down his cheek.

The two men look to where the diamonds lay scattered, but they’re gone. In their place is a tall rose, made entirely out of diamond. Spock gives it a tap and it doesn’t budge. “You’ve been rebuilt stronger than you ever were before,” Spock observes. “Now nothing can change you from who you are.”

Jim inspects the diamond rose as well. “It’s indestructible,” he agrees. “I suppose that’s symbolic.”

“It’s your mind, Captain. You make the rules.”

“And I suppose we can’t just stay here?” Jim asks.

“Addictive properties,” Spock reminds him. “We have very little time left before we lose all will to evacuate.”

“It’s nice here,” Jim says. “Only with you, though. It’d probably be pretty boring on its own.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Spock says. “Now, we must go.”

[-]

The hike back to Jim’s conscious mind is a struggle, but it’s not as difficult as it could have been if they’d taken longer. The gilded spiral staircase is probably a bit much, but Jim is nothing if not extravagant when the situation calls for it.

Back in the dark on the glowing golden path, Jim and Spock regard each other once more. “Once I leave,” Spock says, “you will awake. You will lose access to your conscious mind in the way it is now, since I’m the one guiding you to this point.”

“So you’re saying that we may never be here again?”

“I sincerely hope not,” Spock says.

“Well, I guess this will be my last chance at privacy for a while, huh?”

“I would suppose so. Doctor McCoy will likely want to keep you under observation for a few days in order to ascertain that you have returned to your usual self.”

“Awesome,” Jim gripes. “I can’t wait.” He falls silent for a moment. “Spock? I… thank you.” He smiles. “I’ve never had anyone… just… _care_. About me. Never. I mean, Bones cares, but it’s not… not the same. I mean, you sat through my worst memories with me. And I… I just… thank you.”

Spock blinks. “Think nothing of it, Captain. I was merely doing my best to aid you.”

“Jim. You were calling me Jim earlier, right? When we’re in privacy, you should call me Jim.”

“Very well… Jim.” Spock nods. “I will endeavor to call you by your correct name. I admit that when I called you Jim earlier, I was in a more emotional state that I usually would maintain, and that may have contributed to my…”

“Shut up,” Jim says, and he kisses Spock.

The darkness around them breaks. Suddenly, it is illuminated with multicolored fireworks, sparkling and cracking in the air. The beauty of it almost takes Spock’s breath away.

But Jim is the one actually taking Spock’s breath away. They kiss the human way, but as they do, Spock laces his fingers with Jim’s and finally allows himself to truly _feel_ through the link. It’s an overwhelming sensation, and the warmth that blooms in Spock chest is unlike anything he’s ever experienced. It feels like he’s coming home.

“T’hy’la,” Spock murmurs softly when they break apart.

“What?”

“T’hy’la,” Spock repeats. “Soulmate. I never thought I’d find my t’hy’la. I didn’t even believe I could have on in the first place.”

“It’s a beautiful word. Say it again for me.”

“T’hy’la.”

“T’hy’la… t’hy’la…” Jim rolls the word around on his tongue like he’s testing it out. “I like it. T’hy’la. I’ll see you when I wake then, t’hy’la. _”_

“Very well, t’hy’la.”

The last thing Spock remembers is a distinct sense of peace.

[-]

Jim and Spock visit Ishvaya one last time before leaving orbit. The Eraxian minister examines Jim’s mental state with a look of fascination on xir face. “It’s extraordinary,” xe exclaims as xe presses xir fingers against Jim’s psi-points. “He remembers all that we erased, but he’s coping better with it now than he was before.”

“Will he be fine in the long term?” Spock asks.

“Yes. I believe he will.” Ishvaya hums softly. “Perhaps… perhaps there are better ways to heal than to just erase. Perhaps true healing is coming to understand how your experiences shape you… and to wanting to retain those experiences no matter how painful they are. Your captain’s soul… it _glows_.”

The minister looks over at Spock for a long moment. “I can see something else. A thread… silky, silvery, and yet… strung with rainbows.” Xe smiles. “A bond, Mr. Spock. A bond to you.”

“You are correct,” Spock says. “Are you… familiar with the word _t’hy’la_?”

“No,” Ishvaya breathes, “but I can feel the meaning of this bond in my soul. We too have a word for such a bond… _parleia_. In Standard, it means ‘lifesong’. You are his lifesong, Mr. Spock. And I have never seen a bond so intricate… or as beautiful… as the one I see here.” Xe relinquishes xir hold on Jim. Jim stumbles backwards and comes into awareness.

“Am I well, Mr. Spock?” he asks.

“As well as you’ll ever be, Captain,” Spock replies.

“It is so,” Ishvaya confirms. Jim smiles and takes a step towards Spock. When they stand side-by-side, Jim laces their fingers together.

“Thank you, Minister.”

“Thank _you_ , Captain Kirk. You have taught me much. And to you both… may you dance amongst the stars forever.”


End file.
